


Behind Closed Doors

by quantumkaworu



Category: The Magnus Archives
Genre: Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22644760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quantumkaworu/pseuds/quantumkaworu
Summary: Statement of The Distortion regarding grief.
Kudos: 27





	Behind Closed Doors

**Author's Note:**

> One day i was at work and wondered if Michael saw Gertrude get shot i did not proofread this i am just going for it! lnao

[A door creaks slowly open, a bit of shuffling as the recorder is picked up]

MICHAEL: Isn’t this a little ironic? I came to give a statement but the Archivist seems to be in break. Well, I’ll record it directly since I don’t think writing it would be very useful nor would it record on anything else!

So, [It clears its throat]

Statement of: The Distortion, formerly known as Michael Shelley, archival assistant to the… late Gertrude Robinson. Statement regarding what it saw in an underground tunnel. March 2015.   
Statement begins:

He never traveled much, really. Never had the money and never had the time. He’s be able to go on a holiday maybe twice a year but that meant going to another city, not another country. Once he got the job at the archives he started toying with the idea of going somewhere new and suddenly he was off and away at conferences, different investigations or field work frequently. He had a habit of getting lost on these outings. I can’t say I didn't encourage it a little. After Ryan I played trick on him a few times.  
Ironic now…

[It laughs to itself]

At any rate, he’d read statements from other countries and try and picture in his head what it looked like. He never heard of Sannikov Land and of course his searches came up with nothing. But being the fool he was, he trusted you. Want to know the worst part? He worried about you. He was afraid the ship ride over would make you sick, or how you would fair the cold. He brought tea just in case you got seasick. 

But you didn’t need it. You didn’t even blink at the cold or the sea. You didn’t blink at the ritual, and you didn’t blink when you handed him the map. He’s still in there, still clutching that map and searching for a way out of this madness. That sliver of Michael left holds the even smaller sliver that still cares. That was the only thing keeping me—him?—-us from killing you ourselves. 

I’ve never given a statement before, is this what it feels like? Is this what the power of the Eye is? What does it do when it can’t trust what it sees? Only now am I able to see through all your lies and deceit now that I know the true meaning the words. 

I’ve been down here a while in these tunnels. Where else was I supposed to go? The front door of this place was the easiest to conjure. I knew the smell, how it felt as you pushed it opened, how the latch clicked and how it closed a little too quickly. I’ve become my own sort of watcher, picking out which poor soul would find that their bedroom door does not lead to their bedroom anymore, or who would look in the mirror and see their own face upside down, so I know a little of the happenings around here. I didn’t expect to hear the trap door open today, however. I guess I blinked and missed Elias slipping down here while you were pouring the kerosene. He didn’t even knock. But, the door was left ajar and so I beheld the beholder raise his gun and point it at you like a cornered animal. You played coy as usual as you stared down the barrel of the gun. I wonder if ready all the lengthy gut spills of all the unfortunate souls that pass your gaze made you ramble and forget who was really on the other side of that gun. 

Sometimes, maybe out of habit, I read statements. There was some man who told you about his dreams, seeing you die etcetera etcetera. Good luck trying to  
find him for a follow up, by the way. Antonio is not in the phone book.

[It laughs.]

You didn’t listen of course, if you did I would have thought you… mad. 

[One last chuckle]

I saw him smile as he pulled the trigger and I saw the shock on your face as the bullet pierced through your chest. Ah—it’s still bleeding. If you saw your face you might have recognized it, the bone chill you feel knowing you aren’t going to make it out alive. I don’t know what God you worshipped or if any of them would take you, but if your soul is left wandering, maybe jot down a few notes for the next sorry bastard that succeeds you. 

Statement ends. 

[Tape recorder is set down, Michael gives out a disheartened sigh]

Just in case.

[Michael closes Gertrude’s eyes, then closes the door behind him as he leaves.]


End file.
